


Highgarden Flower Shop

by Cronomon



Series: Highgarden Flower Shop [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cronomon/pseuds/Cronomon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa applies for a job at a flower shop. Margaery's all for it. Robb is skeptical. Loras hates his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highgarden Flower Shop

Margaery looked up to a blur of red. Blue eyes met brown.

“How may I help y-?” her courtesy was cut short.

“I’d like to apply for a job here.”

The girl standing before her was tall. Her straight back displayed confidence, but her fingers were twitching. A sign of nervousness?

Margaery looked closer.

No.

Watering eyes and a red nose.

The girl sniffed and then tried to pass it off for a deep breath.

“A job?” Margaery finally repeated.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

A flash of something (panic?) lit the girl’s eyes briefly. Or maybe that was just more tears trying to clear out the pollen.

“Of course I’m sure,” the girl replied steadily.

Margaery blinked slowly. The girl seemed vaguely familiar, or maybe it was the hair. There were times when she thought she spotted a wave of flames outside the window, but always by the time she blinked they’d been extinguished.

“This is a flower shop,” Margaery clarified, just in case.

“I know that.” The girl shifted, starting to look a bit uncomfortable. Then she pointed back at the entrance to the shop. “Your sign says you’re hiring.”

Margaery nodded. “We are.”

“Well, I’m applying.”

There was something about the stubbornness in her voice, the determined look on her face (despite the puffiness and slightly running nose) that made Margaery smile.

“Alright then,” Margaery consented. Grabbing a notepad and a pen from the counter, she scrawled down an email address. “Send in your resume to here. We’ll be in contact shortly.”

The girl exhaled (and Margaery pretended not to notice the obvious stuffiness of her nose) and took the piece of paper with a grin. “Great,” she said, positively beaming. “Thank you.”

Margaery wondered how it was possible to look so charming and so miserable at the same time.

“Of course,” she replied. She almost thought to offer the girl a flower, just for the heck of it, just for luck, and then remembered why that would be a bad idea. Instead she said, “Hope it works out…?”

“Sansa,” the girl rushed to fill her in. “My name is Sansa.”

Sansa’s hand made a move, as though she wanted to offer a handshake, but ultimately it stayed where it was. Margaery felt an interesting conflict of gratitude and disappointment.

“I’m Margaery,” she responded, once again graciously ignoring Sansa’s movement. She smiled a courteous smile. “I hope to see you at Highgarden again soon.”

*~*~*

“I applied for a job,” Sansa told her brother proudly over lunch the next day.

Robb continued studying the menu intensely. “Do you think I should get a burger? Their burgers look good.”

“Robb.”

“What?”

“I applied for a job.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Sansa frowned at his disinterest. “Don’t you want to know where?”

“Okay.” Robb put down the menu and tossed his head overdramatically to look at his sister in the eye. “Where?”

“Highgarden.”

“Highgarden.”

“Yes.”

Robb stared at her for a while. Sansa smiled back.

“Sansa.”

“Yes?”

“Highgarden is a flower shop.”

“I know,” Sansa scowled. “Why do people think I don’t know that. I know where I’m applying to, of course I know where I’m applying to, I’m not some stupid little girl, I can make my own decisions and do as I please now, I’m _nineteen years old_ , you know, and-.”

“Sansa,” Robb said patiently. “You are allergic to pollen.”

Sansa blushed. “Maybe, but-.”

“When we were children and visited the gardens at Robert Baratheon’s home that one time, Arya had to stab you with an epipen.”

Sansa did not enjoy that memory. It seemed to her that Arya had enjoyed doing that a little too much.

“What in the world would compel you to apply for a job at Highgarden?”

“... Thrrsmkugrl.”

Robb leaned forward. “What?”

Sansa took a sip of water.

“Sansa.”

“I mean, I’m not that bad with pollen anymore, that was when we were kids, I’m not a kid, I’m nineteen, I can handle myself-.”

“Sansa.”

“There’sareallycutegirlthereokay.”

*~*~*

Sansa’s resume was strong, Margaery had to admit.

Participant of several high school clubs, lots of volunteer work, won some prizes in literature and poetry contests, and even interned at some political offices.

“Nothing on here shows even a slight interest to anything agriculture related,” Loras complained.

“She’s a college student looking for some money to get by,” Margaery replied. “We just need some part time help. It works out.”

Loras grumbled something under his breath.

“You don’t have to be so pouty just because Renly didn’t want to take the job.”

“Shut up, I’m not being pouty.”

“Yes, you are. You’re pouting.”

“I am not.”

“Look, I can take a picture of you right now and show you.”

“No. Stop.”

Margaery arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“Fine, we can interview her,” he relented. Then he added none-too-subtly, “She’s the only applicant anyway.”

Margaery ignored his last statement and went to send Sansa the notification email.

*~*~*

As soon as Sansa entered the store again, all adorable smiles and sniffly nose, Loras turned and hissed at Margaery, “She’s _allergic_!”

Margaery shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“We can’t hire her!”

“Keep your voice down, she’s coming over.” Margaery offered a charming smile to the redhead, trying to keep her eyes on Sansa’s face and face only.

“Hello,” Sansa said with a polite nod. “I’m Sansa Stark. I’m here for an interview?”

She seemed taken by Loras’ good looks. Margaery ignored the prick of jealousy she felt. Loras was as gay as any man dating Renly Baratheon could be, and besides, there was like a one-thousand percent chance that Sansa was only applying because of Margaery anyway.

“Of course,” Loras replied and gallantly offered Sansa his arm. “Right this way to the back room, if you please.”

He shot Margaery a glare when Sansa wasn’t looking. Margaery simply followed them to the back.

*~*~*

“So why do you want to work here?” Loras asked.

“I like plants,” Sansa answered confidently.

Margaery beamed. “You’re hired.”

“Margaery, no.” Loras scribbled something on his clipboard (‘wtf’ written in all caps, Margaery noticed graciously) and then asked, “Do you have any previous experience with plant caring?”

Sansa hesitated. Then she said, “I visited the Baratheon gardens once.”

“Oh, those are lovely,” Margaery touched her brother’s arm. “Loras loves anything Baratheon, don’t you, Loras?”

Loras’ ears glowed pink and he pulled away grumbling.

Margaery saw that Sansa’s eyes had narrowed at the exchange. Or maybe she was just trying not to sneeze.

“What did you think of the gardens?” Loras went on, trying hard to keep up a professional front.

“They were… nice.”

Margaery nodded. “You’re hired.”

“Margaery, stop.” Loras wrote something else down on his clipboard (a large ‘NO’ this time) and then said, “Okay, Sansa, this next question is very important.”

Sansa immediately straightened her back to its utmost.

She really was very tall, Margaery noted. She idly wondered what it would be like to fuck her against a wall.

“Are you allergic to pollen?”

“... No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I said yes would that mean I don’t get the job?”

Loras looked at Margaery. Margaery recognized this as her cue.

“If you were to work with flowers in such close quarters would you die?” Margaery asked.

“Probably not.” Sansa looked immensely proud with herself.

Loras looked ready to slam his head onto his clipboard.

“You’re hired,” Margaery declared.

“We can’t hire someone allergic to pollen,” Loras said with measured patience.

Sansa’s smile vanished immediately, replaced with a crestfallen expression. “Oh.”

Margaery glared at her brother. “Loras, look, you’ve made her cry.”

“I am almost positive that those tears are because of the pollen. Since, you know, she’s allergic to it. And we’re in a flower shop. Sansa, are you aware that this is a flower shop?”

“I am aware,” Sansa snapped.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry,” Loras said, sounding anything but, “but we cannot hire you.”

Margaery gave her an apologetic look. Sansa only sighed and took out a packet of tissues from her pocket to blow her nose.

“Well. It’s my mother’s birthday. Could I buy a bouquet at least?”

*~*~*

As Margaery was wrapping up the flowers, she tucked her number into the ribbon, handing the bunch to Sansa with a wink.

“You should call me sometime,” Margaery told her.

Sansa was staring at the paper in bewilderment. “Call you?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” Margaery flashed a smile. “We might not ask you back for a follow-up interview, but I figure I could still ask you out on a date?”

“A date,” Sansa said back, still looking like gaping fish.

“A date,” Margaery confirmed.

Sansa stuttered for a moment. Margaery absently tucked a bright red lock behind the girl’s similarly colored ear.

“A date would be good,” Sansa finally managed.

Margaery grinned. “A date it is, then.” She offered Sansa a potted cactus. No charge, she assured her.

“I’ll call you,” Sansa blurted out just as she exited the shop. Her eyes were still wide, her lips still twitching upward in a cautious smile.

“Okay,” Margaery agreed. She offered a small wave. “Hope to see you here again soon.”


End file.
